When the boy caught sight of Youray and Mihon, his face darkened with a deep scowl, and he spoke in a sharp voice:
— "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
Mihon replied calmly: — "And who are you?"
The boy growled: — "That's none of your business! I asked first. Answer me—who are you, and what are you doing on our land?"
Youray stepped forward, his voice steady and calm: — "If you wish to know our names, then you must introduce yourself first."
The boy compressed his lips and said: - "Are you factory scum? Have you come to hunt on our land? Get out of my sight! Hasn't our people suffered enough at the hands of people like you?"
Mihon looked at him coldly and muttered: - "What factories are you talking about? We are just wanderers in this forest... this is the first time we have set foot on this land. We have nothing to do with your factories. Don't you see? We are carrying our luggage. We're just travelers."
The boy looked them up and down with a scrutinizing eye, then suddenly said: - "Show me your wrists."
Mihon and Youray exchanged puzzled glances, and Youray asked: - "And why do you want to see your wrists?"
The boy answered sternly: - "If you're not from the factories, show me your wrist. Don't dodge the question."
The boy replied firmly, — "If you're not from the factories, then show me your wrists. Don't dodge the question."
Mihon said, — "We don't mind… but first, tell us—who are these people you keep talking about?"
— "Show me first, then I'll tell you."
After inspecting their wrists and finding no mark, the boy let out a sigh of relief and said, — "Apologies… My name is Helmo. I thought you were factory supervisors… Those bastards have started hunting everything on our lands. They steal our food to feed their dogs… while we starve. I will never forgive them!"
Mihon asked him, — "What factories do you mean?"
Helmo pointed toward the horizon and said, — "Follow me."
He led them to a high cliff overlooking a wide river, then pointed into the distance:
— "Look over there..."
Youray and Mihon turned their gaze and saw, far off, three mountain peaks from which thin threads of gray smoke were rising—barely visible.
— "Those are the factories. They're about ten kilometers away from us."
Mihon asked, "And what do these factories produce?"
Helmo shook his head helplessly. "We don't know… even our own people who work there have no idea what's being made inside."
Then he looked at them with weary eyes and said, "You both look tired from the journey. What do you say to visiting my village for a bit of rest? Then you can continue on your way."
Mihon looked silently at Youray, then said, "Very well. Show us the way."
Helmo picked up the rabbit he had caught and walked ahead of them. They followed him until they reached the village gate. Inside, they saw houses that looked like large mushrooms, painted in different colors but with the same design. Some were dilapidated, and the entire village seemed almost deserted. Youray asked: - "Is there a restaurant in the village?" Helmo laughed: - "No need. You are my guests tonight! Besides, we don't even have restaurants..." Mihon looked around and said: - "The village looks empty... where is everyone?"
"Most of them are at work. They won't be back until sundown. The rest are out fishing." Youray asked: - "They work in factories, don't they
Helmo lowered his head and answered in a faint voice: — "Yes… from sunrise until sunset. No days off. And their wages? Barely enough food for one night. And whoever dares to refuse… is killed."
He pointed to the ruined houses: — "Look at those. Their inhabitants died because they resisted tyranny. They were slaughtered, and their homes were destroyed. As for those who stayed silent… they became slaves working for them."
Mihon asked him: — "Has the village always been like this?"
Helmo was silent for a moment, then wiped a tear that ran down his cheek.
— "The village used to be prosperous… merchants visited us three times a month. We exchanged goods and items, and life was full of joy. Then, one day, they stopped coming. The leader sent someone to find out why. But he never returned. Then he sent another… and he too did not come back. After that… he stopped sending anyone. He realized there was danger."
He continued in a trembling voice: — "We relied on hunting and told ourselves we would be fine. Until those men came one night... We thought they were traders. The people rejoiced, believing the village would prosper again. They entered the chief's house to talk with him. After a long silence, a loud bang was heard from his home. The people rushed over... only to find him drenched in blood, a sword at his throat. From that moment on, silence was imposed upon us... and working in the factories became our only fate. You resist... and you get crushed."
He looked up at Mihon, tears in his eyes:
— "Children... children as young as ten work there! Many of them died. When their fathers protested... they were killed, and their homes destroyed."
Then, breaking into sobs, he whispered:
— "What kind of world is this? Don't we deserve to live free? To eat whenever we want? To work when we wish? To wake up when we please? To sleep when we are tired?"
His voice choked, and silence filled the place.